The New Year Comes...

It’s 10:00PM on December 31^st, 2012. My eyes are covered in golden glitter, my roommates and I are all sipping straight from our own individual champagne glasses, hardcore 90’s pop music is rockin’ the background…we’re so ready for the New Year.

A Holiday Poem

Happy Christmas Eve, dear readers, and Monday Fun Day to boot! Whether or not you celebrate Christmas, there is holiday spirit all around this time of year. As such, I thought I would try my hand at recreating an old classic with my rather interesting holiday weekend at work for inspiration. I do hope you enjoy.

Calling all survivors...

If you’re reading this, the idea of the December 21^st, 2012 apocalypse can safely be ruled out. I begin this blog at 3:25AM (since, you know, sleep is no longer a thing I do), which leads me to believe that I’ve successfully survived. For all I know, countless people have been led to a land of bodiless souls while I remain one of the chosen to live on…I suppose I’ll find out later. I don’t have a television, so news reaches me later than most.

The Other Half...

This past Wednesday, I was presented with a unique opportunity which I am ever so happy I took advantage of. A friend of mine was asked to put together a serving team for a private party. Anyone working with him at his restaurant that he normally would have used seemed to be scheduled or riddled with prior engagements, and thus came about the initiatory text.

“I know we were planning to see the Hobbit on Saturday, but I have some news that may throw a wrench in that plan. Are you free?”

Well, seeing as I was already planning on spending the day with him anyway, my freeness wasn’t really in question. I asked what he had in mind.

Secrets...

It is 3:14 in the morning. Showered and clean, I lay here amidst my unwashed sheets in the soft red glow of my spider lamp. Truth be told, the lamp only has five twisty arms, so to call it ‘spider’ is probably incorrect. Perhaps the other three will grow back sometime soon. I did inherit it from my grandmother, so I can’t be sure how many arms it had in the time before living in my corner. Possible? I think so.

To dance upon the wind...

People are quite like bubbles, I think. It all begins with a breath of life, a dripping wet mess, and then off we fly into whatever may come. Bubbles are wondrous, fragile, all too temporary orbs of beauty and light. They cannot control their fate any more than we can when the wind decides to change its course. Those that choose to fight the wind will undoubtedly break under the strain, and those that follow the currents may find themselves popped either way.